


Deep in my bones, I can feel you

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, MayThe4th Treat, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6721915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Padmé wakes up and she’s in a dark, windowless room.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep in my bones, I can feel you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalcolmInSpace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmInSpace/gifts).



> This was supposed to be for [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmInSpace/profile)[**MalcolmInSpace**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmInSpace/) for [](http://maythe4thbewithyou.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**maythe4thbewithyou**](http://maythe4thbewithyou.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
> Title from "Roses" by the Chainsmokers.
> 
> This is a little strange. Hope you like it anyway, [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmInSpace/profile)[**MalcolmInSpace**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmInSpace/).

Padmé wakes up and she’s in a dark, windowless room. There’s a draft, though—just the barest hint of air skimming over her skin—and she can hear faint noise beyond the thick walls. Where she is, she hasn’t the foggiest idea.

Padmé walks the perimeter of the dark room, fingers trailing over the cool stone. The muffled noise, she thinks, sounds like it could be music.

She also thinks: I died. I am dead. This cannot be.

Perhaps she is trapped in limbo, suspended between worlds. She is no Jedi, however. In life, Padmé was about as Force sensitive as a tree stump. Perhaps someone has brought her back from the dead.

“Oh, Anakin, no,” she whispers, pausing to lean against the wall.

Padmé slides down the length of it and curls into a ball. She is frightened, unsure of where or even _when_ she is. Hot tears roll down her cheeks and this heartens her a bit; tears are something she remembers. When she was alive, she cried oceans and oceans of tears. Perhaps this is evidence that she’s been brought back.

 

At some point, she must have fallen asleep because the next time she opens her eyes, she’s curled up on a fraying blanket. Thin slivers of light poke through cracks in the walls. The ground shifts under her as she moves and Padmé puts out a hand blindly. 

Sand. So much sand.

For a moment, fear shafts through her heart like the blade of a lightsaber and she draws back her hand.

Padmé unfurls her body slowly and looks about, drawing in her surroundings.

There is a figure lying on a pallet, curled around a blanket. Padmé crawls closer, on her hands and knees through the sand.

It’s a child.

The child stirs, as if sensing Padmé somehow—through the Force?—and turns on her back in her sleep.

The child has her hair pulled back from her face in three buns. Padmé reaches out to touch the girl’s cheek, but her hand goes right through her like she’s made of smoke. 

“Who are you,” Padmé whispers at the sleeping girl, sitting back on her haunches. “Why did you bring me here? It couldn’t have been anyone but you.”

The girl tosses and turns on her pallet, letting out a strange, keening cry. 

Padmé sighs and settles next to the girl, reaching out to pat a hand over her messy buns. She feels close to this girl somehow. She may not have had any Force sensitivity, but she _feels_ something, something warm and glowing, like the light peering in through the cracks in the walls.

She hasn’t felt this light since she last saw her babies. Luke and Leia.

The girl stops tossing and turning next to her. Padmé puts her head down on the pillow and closes her eyes.

The girl is still restless, but she seems far less troubled now, with Padmé lying next to her. It’s almost as if she can sense her presence. She’s stopped crying. Strands of long, dark hair cling to her forehead and cheeks, and Padmé brushes at her face ineffectively. The girl doesn’t notice, but it’s fine. She’s at peace. Padmé can tell.

Padmé closes her eyes and falls asleep.


End file.
